


Strange Captivity

by Arithanas



Category: I pirati della Malesia | The Pirates of Malaysia - Emilio Salgari
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Eye Sex, Eyeliner, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Language Barrier, M/M, Massage, Misunderstandings, Pre-Canon, herbal remedies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1842, Borneo. Yanez de Gomera tried to get along with the ragtag band of pirates, but his captivity was nothing he had knew before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Captivity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoomMirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoomMirror/gifts).
  * A translation of [Extraño cautiverio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997195) by [Arithanas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas). 



> Dear LoomMirror, you know you are [to blame for this](http://notyourbusinessanyway.tumblr.com/post/144302108519/arithanas-notyourbusinessanyway). Thank you for the plot bunny!

Yanez de Gomera had spent weeks with the pirate crew who sank the merchant ship and took him prisoner. A strange prisoner was he, by the standards inured to him. No prisoner had the kind of freedom in those longs years sailing the Mediterranean. For starters, there were no shackles. Yanez was free to roam wherever he likes on the island. Then, there was no cell to hold him. In fact, Yanez slept every night in the same large room the young Captain slept and shared all his captor’s meals. No one, so far, had hindered him when he wished to board any of the prahus of the pirate band.

These liberties were due to a single fact: Yanez was unable to speak to any of his captors. Even Sandokan, the captain, was able to only utter some words in English. He addressed a couple of commands and three questions to his captive, but nothing else.

One of them was ‘agreed?’ Yanez has agreed on the deck of his vanquished ship, although Yanez was not sure of what he agreed to. So far, his agreement has let Yanez keep his head over his shoulders. The other was ‘coming?’ as Sandokan offered his hands to help him board a prahu. The third question was made out of embarrassment. The crew asked what this new prisoner name was. After that brief exchange, Yanez found freedom swinging from a coil of rope tied to the end of a thin and supple mast.

Life on board pirate prahus was astonishingly simple for Yanez. After years of living on the solid planks of Portuguese merchant ships, the bouncy surface of the native ships made Yanez feel almost weightless. Perhaps it was not the vessel, but the company. Here he was not the son of the merchant, but one of the crew. He was a prized prisoner of the Captain, but he was also a deft sailor. One of those who could reef the long sheets made of flexible strips of bamboo. Yanez was appreciated by the crew because he knew how to roll up his sleeves and pull his weight around. This relationship was beneficial for them.

Life in paradise was not trouble free, but manageable. Headaches had been a problem since the refuge in the prahus was scarce. Pirates reserved the shadow for ammunition and food. European remedies like wet rags to the temples had proven to be useless. The constant squinting at the glare of the sun on sea water only made his misery worse. Yanez wished he had the words to ask for help, but every prahu was babel on waters.

They shared a splendid dinner of boar and tropical fruits that Yanez left untouched. After dinner, Yanez allowed himself to show some of his discomforts. Sandokan watched with curiosity how his prisoner laid on the soft carpet with his arm across his eyes. Not a word left his lips, but the movements of his jaws as he chewed the soft rambutan pulp slowed down.

After the dishes were cleared out, Sandokan approached his prisoner. Fruit juice still staining his red and soft lips. The sight of those lips lessened a bit the pounding force of Yanez's blood on his temples.

Some words tumbled from those lips but the meaning didn’t reach Yanez’s aching brain. Sandokan’s lips became thin with frustration and he tried again, but with even less luck. All those weeks living in the same house. Speaking a dozen of different languages between them. They still couldn’t understand each other.

Yanez tried to stifle a burst of laughter and the movement made him clench his teeth at the new wave of agony.

Sandokan’s lips parted in a perfect round gesture of surprise. His eyes opened with new comprehension. The thick carpet drowned the sound of his steps as he left his captive to his own devices.

Yanez closed his eyes, grateful for the silence. At the very least, rest couldn’t increase the ferocity of his hurt.

***

The smell woke Yanez up. It was a fresh, herbal smell. While he was still trying to identify the aroma, he felt the weight of a strong hand on his shoulder, pulling him up from the floor. Sandokan was speaking, but Yanez was not even sure if his captor was trying to speak English or other of the languages he used to speak with his crew. Yanez’s name was repeated again, this time he could understand it. It sounded so strange with Sandokan’s particular accent.

Sandokan was trying to rousing him up, that was clear, but Yanez couldn’t fathom what else he wanted.

Yanez sat on the carpet but the change of position made his head hurt again. Between clenched teeth, the Portuguese sent Malaysia, and all its inhabitants, to the most tormenting spot in Hell. Sandokan could lead the whole bunch there for all Yanez cared.

Before Yanez could finish his tirade, Sandokan knelt behind him and extended his hands to show Yanez a bunch of fragrant herbs. Sandokan took a couple of leaves and crushed them between his fingers. The aroma filled the room; Yanez could almost feel the spearmint in his tongue.

Sandokan mumbled some soft words in a language Yanez couldn’t understand. When his strong fingers rubbed the crushed leaves to his left temple, the intention became very clear. The wet spot on his skin became cool and the soft stroking touch was soothing. Yanez allowed his head to rest on Sandokan’s shoulder out of sheer exhaustion.

Without a pause, Sandokan crushed more leaves and kept rubbing down Yanez’s jawline. down the taut muscles of Yanez’s neck. Sandokan let his hand roam inside Yanez’s shirt to squeeze his shoulder with care. Sandokan commanded, repeated, and ceased to try in the end.

The pain was fading fast.

Yanez felt weak-willed and comfortable for the first time in days. He pulled Sandokan’s hand to his neck again, asking for more of that soothing kneading. Sandokan laughed a bit. His was a deep, rumbling laughter, quite pleasant to Yanez’s ears.

Sandokan manhandled Yanez since he couldn’t make himself clear. He forced Yanez to lay on the thick carpet before offering his captive his own arm as a pillow. Once Yanez complied, he repeated the rubbing motion on the right temple. Sandokan worked his way downward in the same methodical and precise manner.

That strong, deep touch and the fresh and pungent smell of those fragrant herbs lulled Yanez into a restful sleep.

The fact he was being cuddled by the bloodthirsty pirate that offed all his compatriots was never taken into consideration.

***

The brilliant light of the new day woke up Yanez. The damned sun of this Malayan Summer was cursed with the most selected words of his marine Portuguese vocabulary. Immediately after, he praised the Lord because the damned headache was gone for good. With pleasure, he rubbed his temples and felt the crushed remains of the leaves.

One of the pirate women brought him a bowl of rice gruel and a basin of clear water. Hunger compelled him to go for the bowl, but he had to rein himself. He had learned that eating without cleaning his hands was extremely rude. Yanez cupped some water in his hands and washed his face, too. The water on the crushed leaves renewed the coolness and the relief.

Breakfast was consumed in long gulps. Yanez was trying to push away the thought of a new day under the merciless sun. Part of his mind toyed with the idea of being alone in the house the whole day. Sandokan wouldn’t miss his presence in the patrol since he didn’t seem to care the other way around. After finishing his gruel, Yanez wiped his mouth with his hand. For the first time, he had not seen the Captain since he awoke.

Yanez washed his face and hands once more and left the hut, and went out. The pirate village was bursting with activity. There the kids were weighing black powder. A bit farther, old men were disassembling canons to scrub them with sand and oil. This was not a typical fisher village; the protective trenches scattered around were a clear sign of that. Yanez walked to the cliff, gathering mangoes in his way there. Rice gruel was good, but not enough for his appetite.

At the top of the cliff, Yanez crouched, surveying the bay. The number of ships was very reduced, even for a raid day. Sandokan’s favorite prahus were out in the sea. A big prize might be near if the battleships were out.

Without any hurry, Yanez de Gomera began to peel a mango under the tropical sun of Borneo. As his fingers worked, his mind ran around Sandokan’s face. That was not a bad topic to mull over. to have something pleasant in his mind, as pleasant as the round, shape of the fresh mango in his hand.

Yanez’s long fingers caressed the soft curve of the mango. Part of his mind flew to the soft curve of Sandokan’s cheekbones. The absurd idea of his thumb caressing his captor’s face made him smile at the impossibility.

As a prisoner of a pirate band, Yanez knew his life had little value. If Sandokan ever caught wind about the ideas inside his prisoner’s mind, Yanez was sure his worth would amount to no more than the pleasure Sandokan would derive from killing him with his wavy knife.

“Bah, you can only die once,” Yanez said to himself. He closed his eyes before lift his lips to the mango and suck the pulp with evident delight.

At the end of the day, whatever fantasy he might brew inside his head was his and his alone.

***

Yanez didn’t notice but Sandokan might have arrived in the village sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

At sunbreak, Sandokan shook Yanez’s shoulder to rouse him. Yanez complied. That was the second night he slept as he should and, although he would never admit it aloud, Sandokan’s face was a good sight to have at the beginning of a new day. The only thing that could make it better was to taste those plump lips…

Sandokan looked at his prisoner with a curious look on his face. Yanez noticed he had been smiling to that young, violent man like one would to an ingénue one intended to seduce. That whipped the smile right out of his face. Sandokan nodded and smiled a bit as he realized Yanez was now in complete control of his senses.

They exchanged morning greetings in hushed tones. Yanez acknowledged the good wishes and nodded because that has become their way to agree. The back of his mind reminded him that he better start learning their language. Sandokan signaled Yanez to approach the hut’s veranda and to sit in the floor.

At the budding daylight, Yanez realized those high cheekbones were even more fascinating than he recalled. He felt how the fingertips of his right hand drew a long curve on his knee to stave off the need to caress that face.

Sandokan was talking, but Yanez couldn’t make sense of the words. Sandokan’s strong hand touched Yanez’s chest before signaling his own head. Yanez shrugged because it makes no sense at all. Sandokan pouted. Yanez felt the commanding need to bite that protruding lips. His brain barely registered that his trousers became cramped beyond comfort.

The sulk didn’t last for long; Sandokan diverted his eyes and took a couple of items from the wide sash around his waist. A thin sharp stick and a hexagonal bamboo box with golden lid. Yanez watched with attention as Sandokan opened the box. The box was half-filled with a thick, dark paste.

“ _Kanmashi_ ,” Sandokan said finally, pointing the bamboo box with the thick paste. The word rolled into Yanez’s ears and he appreciated the musicality.

“Kan-machi,” Yanez tried to repeat. His pronunciation was atrocious even to his own ears.

Sandokan nodded. In the end, he knew well that there was no use in trying to correct his prisoner. With his right hand, Sandokan picked some of the paste with the stick. The operation was done with extreme daintiness. Yanez observed the movement enthralled. Sandokan then extended his hand and touched Yanez’s face.

“ _Vôce esta fazendo oqué agora?_ ” Yanez yelled as he recoiled in complete confusion.

Sandokan made an exasperated movement and tried to hold Yanez still. Yanez fought Sandokan’s attempt and swatted the hand away.

Sandokan sighed and got up to bring a mirror before taking his place again. He repeated the movement to pick up the paste. Sandokan traced a line over the waterline of his left eye with the sharp point of the stick. Yanez had never noticed such elegance and precision before.

The effect was stunning. Yanez got lost at the sight of that hazel eye enhanced by the dark line. On the light of early dawn, Sandokan’s eye glowed with a warm golden luminosity.

Thrice, Sandokan passed the past thrice on the waterline and twice on the tighline of each eye. By the time Sandokan did his last inspection on the result, Yanez felt like panting or fainting. In any case, he was breathless and a bit in love. That paste was very flattering for those eyes to say the least.

Sandokan offered the box and the stick to Yanez. Yanez nodded because now he understood what Sandokan’s intent was. He let his shoulders relax, clasped his hands between his thighs and abandoned himself to the whims of his captor.

Sandokan smiled and extended his left hand to hold Yanez’s head still. His other hand signaled up and Yanez’s eyes followed his finger. The tip of the stick touched Yanez’s right waterline. The stick felt soft and liquid and Sandokan’s thumb caressed Yanez’s skin as he applied the paste evenly. The brief touch burned and tingled all the way down to Yanez’s toes.

Yanez got lost in the sensation. He glanced at the face of his captor from time to time. He was sure he couldn’t stand looking at those beautiful, almond-shaped eyes for too long. Yanez was sure if he stared at Sandokan, he would dare a kiss and to hell with any care.

At one point, Sandokan touched his upper lip with the tip of his tongue, showing his extreme concentration. Yanez felt a jolt of pleasure for which he had no words. He had to clench his fists for the need to cup Sandokan’s cheek was almost unbearable.

As a finishing touch, to blur the excess to the sides, Sandokan pressed his thumb to the lateral commissure and pulled them to the sides. He cupped Yanez’s face with both hands. His gaze was intense and focused; the same kind of look that he gave to the signs of ships on the horizon.

Yanez stood for inspection, praying Sandokan never noticed how much he enjoyed the caress.

Finally, Sandokan smiled. His lips parted and Yanez could glimpse his white teeth. That was the smile of a man very satisfied with a job well done and his right thumb caressed Yanez’s cheek. Yanez made a mistake when Sandokan caressed his skin: he looked into Sandokan’s eyes.

The hunger was the first thing he noticed; the gaze was almost predatory with hankering. Those dark pupils fixed on Yanez’s delivered an emotion rawer than simple aesthetic pleasure. That was a look that promised untold pleasure, claimed property and demanded devotion. Yanez ’s breathing became heavy while Sandokan became shallow and fast. For a moment, they sounded like the waves licking the sand on the beach.

Gingerly, they approached each other. Yanez felt the powerful pull of Sandokan desire and obeyed as meekly as he could. His hands fought his will. Yanez ached to hold Sandokan’s head. His heart was pounding against his chest and blood rushed to his temples. He was hoping for a kiss, but Sandokan rested his forehead gently against Yanez's. The tip of his nose caressed Yanez’s and a heavy sigh left his lips. For a brief moment, Yanez felt Sandokan’s strong fingers twitching on the back of his neck before they relaxed and run through the length of Yanez’s hair.

The caress ended and the exquisite closeness did too. With a swift movement, Sandokan broke apart, picked the bamboo box up and smudged a bit of the paste on Yanez’s brow. Finally, with a stern gesture, Sandokan pointed the bay and rose from the floor.

Yanez followed him along, wondering if what he had felt was a dream.

***

As Yanez followed Sandokan, the first thing he noted was how heavy the paste felt in his eyes. The second one was that the sun glare was not as piercing. The paste in his eyes had a reason after all. Yanez wished to know about it before.

Sandokan was walking across the long esplanade defended by large ramparts and heavy artillery. His step was somewhat stiff but vigorous. Yanez would give five years of his life to know what was brewing into that head ornate with long, wavy hair…

As soon as the thought formed, Yanez’s imagination began to ramble about the missed opportunity to let his hands roam in that luscious mane of dark hair.

“Eh!” Sandokan called before Yanez’s imagination soared with the idea.

Yanez heeded the interpellation and noticed the exasperated signal to get into the whaler. Sandokan wanted him on the deck of one of his prahus. Yanez took his place and sat by the bow of the whaler, that way he could keep his eyes from Sandokan. Idly, he considered lighting a cigar, but he knew a few strokes of the oars were enough to take them to the ship.

As soon as they were on deck, one tall and gaunt Javanese approached Sandokan and offered him a pearl-handled pistol, with ammunition, and a heavily ornate scimitar. Sandokan took them and, without a warning, he shoved the muzzle of the pistol down Yanez ’s waistband. The spontaneity of movement took Yanez unaware, but his bewilderment reached its peak when Sandokan put the scimitar in his hand.

“By Jove!” Yanez exclaimed, very amused. “Strange captivity is this in which the captor arms his prisoner!”

Sandokan frowned at the words. Yanez thought that he made a bad choice by letting his mocking nature took the best of him. But neither of them had time to react, a lanky Malay man named Mukesh laughed aloud. Sandokan barked an order. The man replied and they had a very vigorous exchange. Yanez could only fathom he was the very exciting topic of their conversation.

“The Tiger says you are not his prisoner, but one of us,” Mukesh tell Yanez after a long conversation with his captain. His English was stammering but understandable. “You agreed to join us. In your ship, remember?”

Mukesh’s grin, showing his teeth stained with betel nut juice, widened beyond Yanez believed possible. The Portuguese nodded his conformity.

“I understand, and I’ll obey the Captain’s orders,” Yanez promised. At least, his place in Mompracem was clear.

Sandokan received the promise and smiled; his pleasure was evident. Yanez's heart started to beat again at the sight of that smile.

Sandokan, moved by one of those lavish acts Yanez had witnessed more than once in his time with the pirates, took a gem from his sash and tossed it to Mukesh before turning astern without sparing a look for Yanez.

***

Yanez found the heavy paste protected his blue eyes from the glare of midday austral sun. His head was light, at least as light it could be when a chatty Malay man insisted to talk to him. The Malay sailor felt that he must be repaid Sandokan’s generosity. He had appointed himself as Yanez’s _aide-de-camp_ , too much of the Portuguese amusement. Life on board Sandokan’s prahus was still a pleasure.

As the hours passed, the smug of paste in Yanez’s brow began to feel uncomfortable and he started to rub it off. Somehow Mukesh took it very personally.

“No, no, White Tiger,” Mukesh chided and held Yanez’s hand to prevent him from wiping the paste from his forehead. “That must stay.”

“Why?”

“Captain said so!”

“Explain it to me, Mukesh,” Yanez demanded while recovering his hand, there will be time to deal with that moniker he had just heard.

“Headache? Yes? Captain said it was _kannu dosham_ …” Mukesh struggled to find a way to explain it. “When someone looks at someone with desire they gave it the bad look...”

“ _Mau olhado_ ,” Yanez said, understanding the concept immediately. The vacant look on Mukesh’s face let him know the Malay man doesn’t understand Portuguese. He translated it: “The evil eye!”

Mukesh nodded and grinned.

“The spot is to guard you against the evil eye!”

“But who will wish the evil eye upon me?” Yanez asked, taking out a cigarette from his box.

That was another thing that now made sense. Sandokan kept him well provided of his particular vice, as any other member of his crew.

“Captain doesn’t know. Very angry he was yesterday. He forbids us to stare at the White Tiger.”

“I am the White Tiger.” Yanez was very pleased. Sandokan took care of giving him a nickname.

“The Tiger of Malaysia said so.” Mukesh shrugged, too habituated to obey his Captain without any reply.

That sparked another idea in Yanez’s brain. “But, if he forbids his crew to stare, why should I wear the spot?”

The idea was novel to Mukesh but he beamed his betel-stained smile again. “A man can’t help if something caught his eye.”

Yanez mulled over the idea as he smoked, his weight resting on the starboard rail. Sensing that the White Tiger wanted to be alone with his thoughts, Mukesh turned his attention to the task of helping direct the ship.

Yanez finished his cigarette and turned his eyes to the tiller. He was willing his gaze to convey whatever his mouth couldn’t. Sandokan did not take long feel the weight of Yanez’s gaze on him.

When Sandokan directed his attention to the Portuguese, Yanez licked the outer pad of his right hand and wiped clean the paste spot on his forehead.


End file.
